Behind Her Eyes
by fanpersonthingy
Summary: "She will be more powerful than the twice-blessed child but more vulnerable than a mere mortal" To the world, Melinda Halliwell died before she had a chance to live. To Melinda Gladstone, Demons didn't exist; unfortunately everything was about to change.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Charmed nor any of the characters you recongnize from the series.

* * *

**Prologue: 2010**

"Push, breath, push," Phoebe Halliwell instructed her sister in an encouraging voice, "OK Piper, one more big pu—"

Piper's yell of agony cut her off; suddenly a new noise filled the room – the first screams of a newborn child.

Phoebe did the necessities of taking care of a child before wrapping it in a small soft receiving blanket.

She cradled her newborn niece in her arms, preparing to pass her to her mother, "Piper, would you like to meet your daugh—"

Suddenly, Phoebe's hand grazed the baby's small flailing one and she froze – on the outside.

Inside she was suddenly ambushed with too many visions to absorb. She was overwhelmed with image after image; all of them were different, different attacks, different battles, and different demons but there was always one thing that was the same: the little girl she was holding.

She was always a different age. Sometimes no older than the one she was now, other times she appeared to almost be a teenager, but never older than that. The one thing that never changed though was the ending. They all ended the same; they ended with the little girl's death.

"Phoebe!" Pipers horrified yells pulled her out of the visions, "Phoebe!"

Paige slowly leaned over took the girl from Phoebe and gave her to Piper, who after her sister's out burst held the little girl tighter than necessary, "What did you see?"

Phoebe shook her head. She couldn't tell them even if she wanted to; Phoebe had no way of making sense of what she saw. All she knew it was horrible, and that she wouldn't tell Piper even if she knows how to articulate it.

"I, ah—" Phoebe started trying to find a way to answer that question; to say something that didn't sound as horrible as what she had seen.

"Your sister saw the future as it stands now," the Angel of Destiny, the one that had told Piper of Leo's fate and had taken him, said appearing in a glittering swarm, "That child you are holding has been prophesied to be more powerful than the twice-blessed child but more vulnerable than a mere-mortal. Everyday demons will come for her. You will try to protect her; sometimes you will be successful, but one day – one not fully decided by the fates yet – it will become too much and you will fail. As it stands, she will be dead before her thirteenth birthday."

"What do you mean?" Piper asked looking wildly between the Angel, her husband and Phoebe, "Will somebody _please _tell me what she is talking about! What is happening?"

The Angel just stood there solemnly, "I have already told you more than I should."

And saying not another word, the Angel of Destiny was gone.

With the Angel gone Piper turned her hysterical questions at the one person left who could deny what they have heard, "Phoebe! What is she talking about? Why did she say—?"

Phoebe couldn't speak; how could she tell her sister that her worst fears, that the Angel of Destiny spoke the truth? The angel's words had helped her understand what she had seen. Phoebe now knew the truth; the Angel spoke the truth. Nothing they could do would save the girl, at least not with their magic.

"Phoebe," Paige finally hissed, "say something."

Phoebe walked closer to her sister, "Honey… I-I- I'm so, so sorry."

"No, No," Piper shook her head tears flowing freely now, "that's not possible; your visions have been wrong before. We've changed them."

Leo walked closer to his wife and child, "but the Angel of Destiny isn't. We can't change what she says."

Piper refused to believe it, "but we have to! We can't just sit by and do nothing! We can't let our daughter die…" she paused and stroked the child's head, "Our daughter."

"And we're not going to," Paige said looking at Phoebe who caught her drift.

Piper looked between the two of them; her sorrow at this news on what was supposed to be the happiest of days blocking her observation, "but the Angel said…"

"That we can't protect her with magic," Phoebe said looking at the angelic baby. She knew that this plan would break Piper's heart. It would break everyone's but it was better than the alternative, "because magic is what has gotten her into it but…"

"But what?" Piper asked looking around her family for someone to let her in. This was her child, and her mothering instinct drove her to protect, no matter what, "Leo, what are we going to do?"

Leo looked closely at each of his sister-in-laws before he spoke.

"We protect her," Leo said slowly, letting the words sink in as he fully grasped what the plan was to be, "the only non-magical way we know how."

* * *

It had been years since Sister Agnes last saw the swirling blue-white lights, years since she was given the young baby that would grow up to be Paige Mathews, but she never forgot that day or those lights.

So she knew exactly what she was seeing when those lights reappeared before her now. She was fully aware what they were going to ask her to do.

There were four of them now, including the baby. She recognized the woman on the end, slightly distancing herself from the other three, as the young woman that first baby had grown into; she remembered the day she had come back to find her clearly, and she thought she recognized the other woman, who looked quite similar to the first, from that day as well.

"Look, I know this may seem strange, but I don't have time, neither am I in the mood for pleasantries so I'm just going to get straight to the point," the second woman, the one holding the child, said, barreling through it like a school presentations she would rather not be doing, "we are desperate, understand that we would be doing this under _no _other circumstances, and please make sure she is aware of it too. She is in grave danger that we can't protect her from in any other way. We are asking you to take her in, as we know you have done with a child before. Keep her for the day; if we are not back by this time tomorrow, please—" the woman's bravo, her shield, wavered a bit and you could see the heartbroken mother that laid underneath, but only for a moment, "please, find a her a good home; a happy home, a safe_ normal _home."

Sister Agnes only hesitated a moment before nodding; she could not keep this family in agony any longer; she could feel their desperation, and she knew these angels were sent her by God for her to help.

"Of course," she nodded.

She gave her a brief smile before looking down sadly at the small child.

Sister Agnes turned away from the family so they could say their good-byes in private.

Sister Agnes looked down at the small child in her arms. She had a little angelic face; it was hard to believe anyone would wish to harm such a thing. She looked like her mother, Sister Agnes could see that, but her eyes were unique; something that were all her own. Their warm brown colour would draw anyone in. They were wide and blinking. Her eyes were so innocent no one could expect this little girl of doing any wrong.

"Wait," she said stopping the family from leaving, "does she have a name?"

The woman turned back a fond smile on her face, "Melinda. Her name is Melinda."

* * *

By the end of the next day the news was out.

The paper read 'Young child gone before they were really here. Melinda Halliwell, niece of four own 'ask Phoebe' past on in a terrible accident.'

As far as the world was concerned Melinda Halliwell was dead; Melinda Gladstone, however, was just about to start her life.


	2. Chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot, Melinda and her little world.

* * *

**Chapter One: 2026**

_The night made the alleyway dark; something was after me but I didn't know what._

_I ran; my heart pounding, my lungs protesting as I went full throttle through the side roads. I had to get away; I had to them – but who was 'them'?_

_I didn't know that either. I just knew I had to keep running, that I wasn't safe where I was. _

_They were coming; they were always coming and I was always running._

_Suddenly, I burst into a dark shadowy clearing. It was just as dark as the alleyway but I knew I wasn't alone here. There were more people there with me; people who were going to protect me_

_I felt relief; my legs gave out beneath me. I landed on the soft grass as the people moved in front of me creating a shield. I couldn't see any of this but I knew it was happening._

_"You're safe for now," a cold voice called sending chills and shivers down my spine, "but we will get you one of these days. One day soon."_

* * *

"This is DJ Jay waking up with you to today's greatest hits," the radio blared jarring Melinda Gladstone into sudden awake, "now lets get this day started with JB's latest – Pantaloons."

She had had the dream again; the one that she never remembered but would always stay with her, haunting her day.

She had always had that dream, every night for as long as she could remember.

When she was younger it use to make her wake up screaming covered in a cold sweat, and her parents would come running into her room trying to comfort her. It had gotten so bad at one point that they had sent her to a child's psychiatrist, but that hadn't helped—not truly.

Melinda had stopped screaming when she awoke but it was still there; her parent's just didn't know it anymore. She had stopped telling them; Melinda didn't see the point. There was nothing they could do about it and it just upset them.

It wasn't that she was scared of the dream per say; it was more that she was scared of what it represented.

When ever she awoke, despite the fact that she forgot all specific details, she had felt like whatever had happened had _really_ happened. She felt like she was missing a part of her; that she was running from something as well as looking for another. Somehow she knew that all of these feeling related right back to that dream.

"Melinda!" her mother called up the stairs, "you better be out of bed!"

He mom used her 'teaching' voice that Melinda was sure put the fear of God into her mom's five year old students but at the age of sixteen it didn't do much more than make Melinda smile fondly as she climbed out of her warms soft sheets.

"Don't worry, I'm up," she yelled back down before her mom could send her father up.

Although Mr. Gladstone was generally a jolly guy – always smiling and cracking jokes – being a city police officer meant that he could easily put on his serious 'do as I say' face.

Throughout her life Melinda had been on the receiving end of his 'now listen here' speeches and she was really not in the mood for one that morning. Really, she was never in the mood for one of those.

She quickly danced around the room, listening to the radio and going about her morning process.

She stopped to look at herself in the mirror; her large brown eyes blinked back at her. Everyone thought her eyes were her best feature but se wasn't so sure about that one. They always told anyone what they wanted to know about her; whatever she was feeling was always reflect through those wide expressive eyes. They always gave the game away. They made Melinda look innocent; they made her look like a young child and who would take a young child seriously?

She gave her reflection another large blink and looked away. She couldn't dwell on those things. As the shy quiet girl she should really boost her self-esteem rather than put it down. In the high school, there was probably someone willing to do the latter for her.

_What was it they say about your perfect match and your least favourite feature? _She asked herself as she ran down the hall towards the stairs _oh I remember 'what you hate most about yourself will be the one thing they love best'._

"I wonder if Brody likes my eyes…" she accidently pondered aloud as she walked into the kitchen.

"Who's Brody?" her father asked suspiciously. Melinda blushed to her brunette roots as she realized what she had done.

"No one," she said quickly hoping to cover her slip up before it was too late, "he's no one important."

Melinda thought she heard him grumble something along the lines of 'he better not be' from behind his newspaper but she couldn't be quite sure.

Her mother ignoring all of the former conversation cupped Melinda's chin with her hand, "You have beautiful eyes, sweetie."

"So I've heard," Melinda relied with only the slightest hints of sarcasm.

Mrs. Gladstone pretended to hear none of the sarcasm and smiled as she walked over to her husband, "Peter, would it kill you to put that paper down and interact with your family."

"Actually my dear," he said his deep voice rumbling with laughter, "I believe it just might."

Melinda shook her head and rolled her eyes good naturedly.

As she leaned against the kitchen island eating the apple she had grabbed off the table she took in both her parent's profiles.

Even if she hadn't known since she was a young child that she had been adopted she would have figured out that something was up sooner or later on her own.

You see Melinda looked nothing like either of her parents. Try as she might, which she had in her younger years just because, she could not see anything that resembled herself in them.

Her mother was a short and slender woman with bright blue eyes and shining blonde hair; her father was a tall and broad man with twinkling green eyes and vibrant red hair. Melinda contradicted both these images in every way.

She was neither tall nor short but an average height. She was neither slight nor broad but again an average weight with a curvy body structure. Here hair was neither her mother's golden locks, nor her father's fiery main. Melinda's hair was a deep rich chestnut brown that nicely emphasized her exquisite eyes.

She could not be related to her parents by blood but that didn't bother Melinda; she knew she was still related to them by heart. Her parents, adoptive or not, loved Melinda deeply and she had always been aware of this knowledge.

She never had a real drive to figure out who her 'real' family was. To Melinda, her adoptive parents were her real family.

Sometimes, however, she could stop herself from dreaming she had a bigger family, some siblings. Strangely enough, the one thing that Melinda always secretly wanted, secretly saw when she imagined her larger family was two brothers, both quite a few years older than herself. One boy was blonde while the other, the younger one, was always brunette like herself.

* * *

A few miles away, in a red-pink manor, two brothers, one blonde the other brunette were in the middle of a rather heated argument, at least it was an argument for the younger of the two.

"I told you I had it covered," twenty-two year old Chris Halliwell yelled at his elder brother.

"I was just trying to help," Wyatt reasoned refusing to get mad, which really only served to make his brother more so.

Chris threw his hands into the air, "Well I didn't ask for that—in fact I believe I said _I. have. It. Covered.!_"

"Yeah, well Chris, I wasn't so sure of that," Wyatt replied his frustration finally betraying him and coming through in his words, "and I didn't really want to experiment and see what happens when I let my baby brother get in over his head with a demon."

Chris's face went rigid; here we had gotten to the root of the problem. 'Baby brother'. Chris was tired of being the baby brother. He was hardly a baby anymore and really he was barely a year younger than fair haired Wyatt.

Chris Halliwell felt that it was about time he was allowed to vanquish a lower level demon or two on his own with out his 'twice-blessed', 'all-powerful' big brother having to come and save him. He may not have been born with a universal title but Chris knew he was powerful enough to do some magic on his own, and he wanted to prove that. He was tired of living in Wyatt's shadow.

"Besides Chris, we're a team," Wyatt was saying, his voice calm and level again, "We aren't supposed to be doing things on our own."

"God! Why do you always have to be so calm and reasonable when I just want to pick one, simple, small fight?" Chris had always been more of the hot-head of the two brothers and Wyatt's constant white-lighter pacifist calm irritated him to no end.

"You two do realize you sound like a couple of children arguing like that, don't you?" their cousin Pandora asked calmly. She was standing at the top of the stairs leading into the attic staring at the two older boys.

At fourteen, Pandora was the youngest of Phoebe's three girls and the youngest of all the Halliwell/Mathews cousins. Yet despite that, she always appeared to be the one with the most calm and wisdom.

She had always been that way; she was the family odd-ball, which in a family of magical beings that included a cupid and ex-elder, that was saying something.

Even as a young child she had always had this look in her eyes – a look that showed a certain level of inner calm and philosophical insight, and as she got older she would always come up with little wise, situation appropriate sentiments that out of the children really only Wyatt, after he received some White-lighter training, could rival.

The common theory throughout the family was that her powers of empathy gave her an insight that no other child had.

"Dora," Chris looked at his youngest cousin and felt the pang he always did when he saw her. It was a pang of remembrance and yet also a pang of loss. Pandora reminded Chris of someone, but he could never place who, "what are you doing here?"

"My mom brought me over; she was going to give me a lesson with the book but she is talking to Aunt Piper right now," Dora replied walking further into the attic.

Wyatt promptly dropped his argument with his brother and grabbed the book, "Well, how about I start you off then."

"I would like that very much," Pandora replied skipping over to the old couch Wyatt had seated himself on.

Chris glared at his brother for a moment, angry that he was trying to get out of this conversation so easily.

"Ok, look," Chris said heatedly wanted to get his last point in despite the fact that they now had an audience, "next time I say I have it, just _stay out of it_!"

Without waiting for a reply he stormed out of the attic and down that stairs. Wyatt figured that he was probably going to his room to cool down. That was where their mom had sent him anytime he got worked up as a youth and as they say 'old habits die hard'.

Pandora quietly watched him go, listening to him stomp down each step before turning to Wyatt, "He gets that you care but he wants to prove that he's not completely vulnerable on his own, that he can be independent. I think your reputation over-shadows him more than he is comfortable with."

"You don't say," Wyatt said slowly. He had, obviously, known Dora all fourteen years of her life and he still wasn't use to her deeply perceptive powers. Anything she said relating to what she could feel of a person's emotions, motivations, desires, were very – some would say scarily – accurate.

She got empathical powers from her mother but she also got something of Coop's powers as well. She was more than just an empathy. Wyatt had always chosen to think of her as the opposite of the demon of fear. Barbus could tell a mortal's worst fear; Pandora could tell their deepest and truest heart's desire.

Wyatt gave her a playfully suspicious look, "I thought Aunt Phoebe told you to stop using your powers on the family."

"Oh please," she replied in a patented teenage girl 'don't be stupid' tone, and grabbed the book from Wyatt's lap, "it's not like your powers; I can't exactly turn it off. Besides you needed to be told and he was _never _going to tell you on his own… sometimes I don't get you people."

Wyatt laughed good naturedly and ruffled Pandora's hair, "you're a weird one munchkin, but your family so I guess I won't tell."

* * *

Downstairs, Piper was doing what she does best in the kitchen completely ignorant of her children's spat.

"I just can't believe how fast they grow up," Phoebe was saying as she stole bits of food from her sister's counter, "It seems like yesterday that I was holding little Prue in my arms and wondering if I could actually do this, and now she's graduating high school and going to college, Parker wants to start driving, and my Dora has already turned fourteen… god I feel _old._"

"_You _feel _old_?" Piper asked her hands on her hip, her stare directed at her _younger _sister.

"Oh you know what I mean," Phoebe said waving her off.

Piper turned around to pour more stuff into her sauce cooking on the stove, "I do. After all mine are all in their twenties now…"

She trailed off suddenly freezing mid-act. That statement hadn't been entirely true. Both her boys _were _past the age of twenty but that wasn't all of her biological children. Her little girl, her Melinda, who she was forced to give up secretly and act like she had died, would be no older than Phoebe's Parker. Sixteen years – that was how much time Piper had already missed.

"Oh, honey," Phoebe said reading the look in her sister's face and placing a hand atop of hers, "I know but you guys did the right thing; you did the only thing you could."

Piper looked sadly back at her sister, "I know; we kept her safe… but it's alright to be a little sad isn't it?"

"More than alright, perfectly normal," Phoebe reassured giving her hand a pat.

Piper flinched as their tender moment was interrupted by the sudden slam of a door on the second floor.

"You would think," she said exasperatedly knowing one of her sons was responsible and she had a pretty good idea which one it was too, "that at twenty they would be past the door slamming stage; instead they just slam them harder than the use to."

Phoebe laughed, "You want me to see what's wrong or to go yell at him before I find Dora?"

"No," Piper sighed "there comes a point and time when you just have to give up and let them deal with it themselves. If they want your help then they will ask."

"Very wise," Phoebe said jokingly, "maybe you should start taking over my column."

Piper waved a dishcloth at her, "Just go, and tell any of my offspring that you see that breakfast is on the table."

As Phoebe went up to the attic, Piper started setting the table so breakfast would actually be there when people started coming down.

As always, she stopped and hesitated at the fifth, extra place. The place that she would have been setting, should have been setting, if things had turned out differently.

Everyday, Piper felt the loss of the little girl, her daughter. It was a void of should have beens and would have beens that she found herself falling into, even sixteen years later. It was the little things that caught Piper up. The things she will never get to do; the things she will never get to see; the things she will never get to know.

In some ways keeping Melinda safe had felt like a failure, like they didn't try hard enough to keep her home as well as safe. It was hard for Piper, and really everyone, to accept that that was the way things had to be, that that was the only option they had had; Piper still hadn't fully done that. In some corner of her heart, Piper knew, she would always feel like she failed.

There was a role that Piper had never gotten to fill; there was an empty space in the house that would never quite go away.

Leo, Piper knew, felt it too. She had never been so sure about the boys. They had been so young at the time that they had never been told more than that their sister died, and Piper wasn't even sure they fully remembered that.

"Whatever happened to you?" Piper sighed looking off in to the distance, "Melinda."

* * *

"You're late," Charlotte Murdoch accused as Melinda rushed up to her locker.

"What do you mean?" She asked glancing at her watch and then back at the ginger haired girl, who happened to be her best-friend, "I still got ten minutes before the bell goes."

Charlotte gave an overdramatic sigh, "Not for the bell stupid, for _Brody Cartwright. _He was right here with his friends like _five _minutes ago."

"I'm quite sure Brody Cartwright is unaware of my existence let alone my locker location," Melinda said practically as she pulled what she need for the morning out of her locker.

"Nuh-uh," Charlotte said, slightly overdramatic again, "he was like _totally _asking about you, like wondering where you were and stuff!"

Melinda closed her locker and gave Charlotte a skeptical look. Charlotte was a good friend but she had a tendency to be well… overdramatic, "Really, Brody Cartwright _actually verbally _expressed a curiosity and or concern about _my _whereabouts?"

"Well… verbally…no," Charlotte said slowly, "but he was _totally _asking with his eyes."

Melinda smiled and rolled her eyes. She started towards her first period class.

"Right. I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," Melinda was use to her friend's antics and tendency to see what she wanted into situations. It was a quality, that as long as you where aware of it and took it with a grain of salt so to speak, that made life quite interesting.

Charlotte ran to catch up with her friend and didn't comment.

"Look, Char," Melinda said as soon as Charlotte had caught up to her again, "I'm thankful for the support, but Brody Cartwright he's just a crush. A silly high school crush, it's fun but nothings going to happen with it."

Charlotte gave her an indignant look, "why would you say that?"

"Because… Brody Cartwright is… well _Brody Cartwright_ and I'm… well… I'm just … _me_. We're just two separate worlds or leagues if you should so wish to look at things that way."

Charlotte sighed, "You are way too hard on yourself Mel."

"Hey, I never said either world or league was better than the other… they're just different," Melinda said.

"Whatever," Charlotte said throwing some of her long hair over her shoulder, "but let me just say, you're gorgeous Mel, and anyone, including Brody Cartwright not only should, but would be lucky to have you."

The bell rung then and the two girls went to their two different homerooms.

"We are _so _not done here, Missy!" Charlotte claimed as she ran off to her class.

Melinda just shook her head and smiled to herself as she went into her homeroom; a class as chances might happen she shared with none other than Brody Cartwright.

Brody Cartwright was the embodiment of the teenage, high school heartthrob. He was the golden boy jock that almost every girl in the school idolized. Melinda knew this and knew it was completely uncreative and cliché to fall for that but she couldn't help it. The heart wanted what the heart wanted and for some reason Melinda was completely drawn to Brody Cartwright.

Melinda knew it wasn't his dark shaggy hair that always fell into his face no matter how many times he brushed it away or his eyes that were a perfect shade of blue that just sucked you in – or at least that was the rumors said, Melinda didn't have any experience to judge that from. Both those things made him attractive, but there was something else that, for Melinda, was a deal breaker.

His smile.

Brody's smile was the brightest and warmest that Melinda had ever seen. It made knees melt and hearts break. At least it made her knees melt and heart break. Without that smile he would just be another unattainable yet attractive jock that Melinda wouldn't waste any time or thoughts on but with it…

It made Melinda's pulse quicken and heartbreak just thinking about it. She knew she had no chance with him; she didn't even have the guts to try to speak to him.

_Speak of the devil… or rather think of him,_ Melinda thought as her eyes cut to the door and she saw the one and only Brody Cartwright waltz right in.

Or at least that's what he started to do, but then he stopped and did something quite strange.

Instead of just walking to the room and sliding into his usual spot at the back of the room with the rest of his friends, he hesitated on the threshold and started scanning the room. It only took him a few moments for his eyes to focus on something and smile.

It took Melinda a few minutes longer to realize that he was looking and smiling at _her._ In fact, her brain didn't fully comprehend the idea until he had stopped at the desk beside her that always stayed empty.

"Mind if I steal this seat?" he said smoothly and causally, like there was nothing unusual about him sitting beside the shy slightly socially awkward girl rather than his jock friends, "I can never make out anything on the board from the back of the room. I have horrible eyes."

Melinda was tempted to correct him, and tell them that his eyes were quite as captivating as she had always heard but stopped herself figuring that would sound slightly creepy.

"No, no," she mumbled quickly instead moving her books onto her own desk, "all yours, knock yourself out."

He smiled again looking directly at her. Melinda's heart stopped beating for a few seconds.

He settled himself down, setting out his notebook and pen before turning back to Melinda.

"Now, I don't think we've ever been properly introduced," he said a pleased smile spreading across his face, "It's Melinda right? I'm Brody Cartwright."

Like Melinda didn't know that. Every girl in the school from freshmen to seniors knew of Brody Cartwright. Again though, to not sound creepy or dorky, Melinda kept that to herself.

Instead she timidly shook the hand her offered.

This day was starting to look up.

* * *

Chris lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. It was a ceiling he had seen many times before. Every time, through out his childhood, Chris had let his neurotic hot-headed nature get the better of him his mother would send him to his room to cool down, and every time he ended up how he was now – lying on his bed staring at the ceiling.

As he thought on it now, he had spent a lot of time in his twenty two years staring at that ceiling. Chris was pretty sure he could draw a map of it.

He smiled ruefully to himself; _I guess I should try to cool it in the future._

He was sure Wyatt hadn't spent half as much time doing that as he had. Of course, Chris wasn't Wyatt and that was really what had started this latest spot wasn't it?

Chris found his thought wandering to familiar territory. He wondered what it was like to not be the youngest child. He wondered if things would have turned out differently, if he would have turned out differently had their been another sibling.

He didn't understand why but all his life he had always wanted a little sister. He would compensate that want with his younger cousins, but it wasn't the same. Strange as it was, when Chris pictured his ideal family, it was what he had now plus a little brunette girl with wide brown eyes.

He felt like he had missed out on a calling or something by not having one.

He recalled a large drama around another brother or sister when he was younger but the family never talked about it and Chris couldn't remember more than a nagging feeling.

He was trying to bring back more of that memory when there was a knock on the door and Dora stuck her petite head around it.

"Hey Dora, what's up?" Chris asked sitting up.

"My mom says your mom says breakfast is ready," she replied.

Chris stared to get up, "Thanks Munchkin, and hey, sorry if I was short with you earlier. I was just mad at Wyatt."

"I know," she said simply, "I also know you care about him just as much as he cares about you," she started to leave then suddenly stuck her back in, "and don't worry, you will find her."

Chris fell back on his bed suddenly confused. Chris was use to his cousins strange antics but this was strange even for her, "find who?"

"The one I always remind you of. The one you are really searching for—your sister. You will find her, some day soon."


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything, but the plot, Melinda, and her little world and family.

* * *

**Chapter Two: 2026**

"I can't believe you," Charlotte burst as she caught up with Melinda on top of the stairs that lead to the school's front doors, "I can't believe you spent an entire period with Brody Cartwright and I hear about it hours later from _Nancy_!"

Melinda gave her friend a bemused glance. She had gone over what had happened in first period many times but until that moment it hadn't occurred to Melinda that her biggest faux pas was not immediately informing her best friend of the event.

"I wasn't aware that my every move interested you so much – or the general public for that matter," Melinda quipped as she walked down the stairs and started for the sidewalk.

Charlotte sighted exasperatedly, "you know so little of the world, Mel."

Melinda just laughed as she shook her head. She refrained from asking Charlotte just how she knew so much more of the world. She got Charlotte's point though; when it came to boys and gossip Melinda really was clueless.

The two girls left the school grounds and started to whined their way home through the San Francisco streets.

"See," Charlotte was bouncing more than she was walking, "I _told _you he was wondering where you were this morning."

From her tone one would have thought Charlotte had predicted the future of the world rather than whether or not a boy was interested in a girl.

Melinda was a little more blasé about it – at least on the outside.

"Maybe," she replied with a small slightly dismissive shrug. She was trying to sound nonchalant but she couldn't help the small giddy smile that was growing on her face.

"Oh maybe my butt," Charlotte said not buying her friends act for one minute, "now tell me what happened!"

"Nothing," Melinda said ignoring the nerves that built up in her stomach every time she thought of that morning, "Really nothing! He sat down, we talked a little and mostly what we talked about was work: Jane Eyre – it was English class Char, not social club and defiantly not the dream date."

Charlotte tsked, "Well of course nothing happened with that attitude."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah I know," Melinda said fondly, "now get lost."

Melinda smiled to herself as she turned the corner on her own, away from Charlotte who lived from the opposite way of Main Street. She may have left Charlotte behind but she didn't leave her words behind.

When Charlotte asked what had happened Melinda hadn't been entirely truthful. Something _had _happened; the problem was that Melinda didn't entirely know what.

She hadn't lied when she said that all they did was talk a little and mostly about Jane Eyre. That had been true; they had help each other with work, but something else happened, after that.

"Cartwright," Pete Jones, Brody's right hand man, called, waiting at the door, "let's go."

Instead of grabbing his stuff and running for the door as he usually does, Brody called back, "Go ahead without me; I got some things to take care of."

Melinda watched, slightly dumbstruck, as Pete stared at his friend a moment before shrugging and leaving.

Brody turned back to find Melinda staring at him. She quickly looked away blushing furiously; she only lasted a few moments before she looking back at him with a small shy smile. Brody returned it with his wide, bold, stunningly confident one.

"You know," Brody said handing Melinda her binder once she had finally put the rest of her things in her bag, "I would be getting a lot better grades if I had been sitting beside you all year; you're a lot more helpful than Jones was."

Melinda shouldered her bag and smiled bashfully, "Oh, I doubt that… I just really like this book."

"I wouldn't underestimate yourself," Brody said.

Melinda managed to make it out the classroom before she finally snapped.

"Ok, I have to ask," she said stopping outside the door, "why did you sit in that seat? I know you said something about seeing the board, but really? Why now, why today?"

Brody just stood there staring at her for a very long moment. Melinda stared back hoping to look confident while her heart was beating franticly. She was wondering if her mouth had just ruined everything.

Finally, Brody spoke, "Well, you got me there – it wasn't the board I wanted a better look at."

_It wasn't the board I wanted a better look at._

Those words floated Melinda's head, hours later, as she walked home from school.

It was those words, and the act of trying to figure them out that kept Melinda from noticing the paranoia that was growing in her.

_I'm being followed. _

The thought was unfounded, a quick glance behind her told Melinda that, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was true. It was like a sixth sense, a power, telling her that she wasn't safe.

The streets were unusually empty, and panic had already been set loose in Melinda. Both her feet and heart quickened their pace.

As she raced down the empty streets, Melinda was struck with a strange and all-encompassing sense of Déjà vu. Although her mind couldn't place it her body was telling her she had done this before; she had been in that state of blind running panic before.

Nothing made sense and yet Melinda just _knew _that she had to keep running, she had to get away, but from what?

Nothing she thought could calm herself down. In fact, it all had the opposite affect.

She reached an arm across herself, both to comfort and to hold her backpack in place as she increased her speed one more time.

The sudden and inexplicable need to get away was driving her again. It had such a hold on her that she took a sudden and impulsive turn at the first opening that came.

It lead her right into an alley that, although she didn't notice at first, was a complete dead end.

A noise behind her, pushed Melinda into a running panic, and she didn't stop until she ran right into the tall wooded fence blocking her way. She stopped suddenly, not completely registering that her way forward was blocked and that whatever was after her was still on the way back.

Slowly, reality came to her and Melinda had to admit defeat. Taking a deep breath she turned around to face her pursuer

Her voice shook as she called, "Who-who's there?"

* * *

Chris franticly flipped through The Book of Shadows. He had looked through every other family book and album in the house and this was his last hope to find the answers he was looking for. A hope he didn't hold a lot of stock in.

Pandora's words had hung with Chris long after the young girl had left; how could they not?

"What sister?" Chris had asked her after she had made her announcement, "I think I would know if I had a sister Dora; what are you talking about?"

Instead of being helpful Pandora had just shrugged, "I don't know. My power doesn't work like that. I just know what I see, and you, I see you want to find your sister. I don't know where the sister comes from."

She started to leave his room but then turned back, "if it helps I sometimes see the same person when I look at Aunt Piper and Uncle Leo."

Then she was gone, leaving Chris confused and staring at his bedroom door.

After that he decided that Pandora was just being Pandora, which resulted into more than a little crazy, but her words had stay with him all day, along with a nagging feeling that maybe she was right.

It was when he remembered the thought that there was some important event with a sibling that he was forgetting that he was driven to search the house for clues.

Chris slammed The Book of Shadows shut with a curse, "I give you; this is impossible!"

"I'd ask what is impossible, but then you would probably bite my head off for meddling in your demon business again," Wyatt was leaning against the attic door way and was staring at his brother critically.

"Wyatt," Chris said an idea suddenly jumping to him at the sight of his big brother, "just the brother I was looking for."

"Well, that's a new one," Wyatt remarked easing himself from the doorway and into the room.

Chris rolled his eyes, "Whatever, look. Have you ever felt like you were missing something?"

"Something like your mind?" Wyatt asked leaning on the pedestal that held The Book.

"I'm trying to be serious here," Chris glared, "No, like a purpose or a destiny; just something you were meant to do or be but never did."

Wyatt stared at his brother for a long moment before shaking his head, "Sorry, bro… your still sounding a little crazy."

Chris groaned exasperatedly and banged his head against The Book's cover. After a second he explained everything Pandora had said and what he himself had been feeling.

"At first I thought Pandora was just talking crazy but now…" Chris sighed and sank down on to the couch Wyatt and Pandora had been on that morning, "now I just don't know."  
He covered his face in his hands – a wry gesture.

After a long silence he looked back up at his brother, "You have _nothing _to say to that?"

"Well…" Wyatt started sounding unsure of himself.

"Well?" Chris cut in, "That's all you got to say. Are you saying you never wondered? Never felt like this?"

"_Well_," Wyatt said emphasizing the word, "if you had let me finished. Of course I've wondered, but actually feeling like I missed out on something? No, I can't say I have." Wyatt paused for another moment and sat down beside Chris on the couch, "are you sure you're not remembering something from your other life? One of those shadows that you get; maybe something that changed."

Ever since his twentieth birthday Chris had been getting flashed of memories from a life time he didn't live, from a life time where Wyatt was evil. It was a life time that he has been told, and remembers going back to change. He couldn't remember everything from that time, and most things are a blur, but he has a few solid memories, and more come into his head all the time.

"I guess it could be," Chris mused thoughtfully, "but it just _feels different_ somehow. Are you sure nothing I said sounded familiar?"

Wyatt looked thoughtful for a moment, "Well there is one thing… I seem to remember a funeral of some kind, when we were younger, much younger… I think I was about six or seven. I don't remember much more than everyone seeming to be really sad, but maybe… maybe it's the sibling related event you're remembering."

They were both silent for a long time, thinking about what the other had said, and what exactly that meant.

Finally, Chris asked the question they were both thinking, "How do we find out? I can't go on not know."

It was a few moments before Wyatt gave the answer the both knew, "Mom, and Dad."

* * *

"Who's th-there," Melinda's voice wasn't much stronger the second time she said it.

There was no reply. Melinda peered into the shadows in front of her.

The tow buildings that created the alley blocked out the sun. The alley was dingy and dark, and as far as Melinda could tell it held nothing but shadows.

This realization, however, wasn't as comforting as it should be. With her heart still beating wildly a thought struck here.

_Shadows can be anything. _Her own words startled her into another panic. _'Be'_ why_ on earth did I say _be _… shadows can hid things not _be _things… right?_

She was already second guessing herself and her sanity when the shadows started to move of their own accord.

Melinda watched, horrified, as the shadows slowly stared creeping forward and taking shape.

Soon there was a dark menacing silhouette of a full grown man in front of her and before Melinda could blink the shadow had materialized into a full grown, completely solid man.

The man was wearing some sort of black cloak that looked, to Melinda, like it had come straight out of a _Lord of the Rings_ movie. His face was unnervingly handsome underneath he three ugly scars that ran down from his forehead to his chin on the right side of his face. It gave the appearance that he had once been clawed by some sort of wild animal.

It was his eyes, though, that really frightened and trapped Melinda. They were a bright, almost exotic, shade of blue that both attracted and repelled. Despite the fear she felt of them, those eyes were hypnotic; they wouldn't allow Melinda to look away.

AS she had watched this man suddenly appear, Melinda's hand had unconsciously wandered into her bag.

She now fingered the pepper spray her father had given her. She could remember the day he had handed it to her.

"You go to be prepared for those creeps out there," he had said.

_You had no idea, dad, _Melinda thought as she started at her attacker.

"Stay back," she called in a shaky voice, but had a firm grip on the can, "I'm-I'm armed."

Instead of hesitating, like Melinda had both expected and hoped for, he laughed.

It was a strange laugh. It was warm and deceivingly jolly. It was the type of laugh that should have surrounded you like a warm hug, but coming out of this man's mouth, it just left Melinda feeling like she had just been doused with ice water. Her pine straightened, blood froze, and limbs shook.

"Oh foolish girl," he voice was rich and unnerving, just like his laugh, "you aren't armed against me – not with that anyways. You _should _know that, of course, then again, that's why I'm here."

He smiled then, a gleefully malicious smile that showed all his pearly white, perfectly straight, and unnaturally pointy.

The world froze for a second as Melinda stared at the strongly attractive, yet terrifying man. Suddenly, then he was gone and the spell broke, but no sooner had Melinda turned around to look where he had gone had he appeared behind her and had a hand around her neck, holding her head in place.

It was a quick fight; Melinda didn't struggle; she didn't have time. The second she caught sight of his probing blue eyes she was lost, locked in place.

She couldn't move, and felt her body weaken, but her mind was still going; her thoughts, although muddled with panic, were clearly her own.

_Oh god. I'm going to die. This is it – oh mom, dad… Help, help, please anyone, help me._

She felt a sudden and unexpected flow of power burst through her before she succumbed to the eyes, and all went black.

* * *

"Mom?" Piper Halliwell turned at the sound of her eldest son's voice, "Can we ask you something?"

They were in the observatory and the light from all the windows highlighted the tow boys' serious faces.

"Of course, darling; what is it?" Piper replied giving the two boys a quizzical look. She had never heard either her sons use quite the town they were using now. I was making her slightly nervous.

Instead of relying the boys shared a look. Whatever the planned on saying, they either didn't really want to say it or didn't know how.

"Wyatt," Piper said slowly and encouragingly, "Chris, you know you can tell me anything."

Finally, after a long moment Chris cracked, "Why does Pandora thing I-we have a sister?"

Chris's words had come out in a rush but Piper had no trouble hearing them.

She froze. Piper knew in the back of her mind she should have expected this day to come, what with all the empaths, and Aunt Phoebe in the family, but she hadn't anyways.

"Leo," she called shakily for her husband, "Leo, can you come here a second please?"

"Mom?" Wyatt asked as Piper sat rather heavily down on one of the wicker couches.

She looked up at both her sons, "boys, it's time I tell you what I should have told you a long time ago."

Before either boy could reply to this Leo came into the room.

"Piper, what's wrong?" he asked looking between his slighted stricken wife, and completely confused sons, "What's going on."

"Wyatt and Chris want to know about their sister," Piper said evenly.

Leo sank down beside his wife, "oh."

"Wait, so Pandora was right, we really do have a sister?" Chris asked.

Piper looked at her youngest son, "yes, Chris, Wyatt, you have a baby sister."

The room was silent as the boys absorbed what they had just heard; the looked at each other then back at their parents.

"So, what happened to her?" Wyatt asked slowly almost dreading the answer.

Piper looked at her husband for support. This story was one they had always kept to themselves, never told before. She closed her eyes to help gather some strength. A strength is turned out she didn't need.

Before she could speak, her thoughts were hijacked, replaced by a message that was much more dire, and yet closer to the conversation that was going to be had than anyone might know.

_Help, help, please anyone, help me._

_

* * *

_

Phoebe Halliwell was in her office at the Bayside Mirror when she heard it.

She was having trouble wording her next column when suddenly she wasn't thinking about advice anymore.

_Help, help, please anyone, help me._

_

* * *

_

Wyatt was shocked when he heard it. One minute he was waiting for his mother to speak and the next a feminine voice was speaking in he head.

_Help, help, please anyone, help me._

* * *

Paige Mathews, who was use to her charges voices in her head, wasn't surprised, just confused. She didn't recognize this voice, and it didn't seem like they were taking directly to her.

_Help, help, please anyone, help me._

* * *

Leo started. Like Paige he was once used to lots of voices in his head, but that had been long ago. He wasn't confused, just nervous. His instincts told him whose voice that was.

_Help, help, please anyone, help me._

* * *

Pandora took it all in stride. Magic and bizarre was her world, maybe more so than the rest of the family. When she heard it she just quietly put her homework away and went to find an adult to help.

_Help, help, please anyone, help me._

* * *

Chris had the most to process. The voice didn't just set of any emotions or instincts. The voice set of a whole tidal wave of memories, a life time of memories.

He saw his mom with a little baby with wide brown eyes. He saw himself and Wyatt, younger, posing for a family photo with a small toddler girl, with laughing brown eyes. He saw himself, around the age of fourteen, comforting a inconsolably little girl, around seven or eight, whose brown eyes were now filled with tears and pain, at their mother's funeral. He saw an angry, evil Wyatt terrorizing the girl, who looked to be about the, her expressive eyes, brown and wide with fear. He saw the same girl, a few years later, yelling back at Wyatt, a hardened bitter look in her brown eyes. He started to see one more memory, but his mind shut it out before it finished. Something told him this memory was too painful to see.

There was no confusion for Chris; he knew exactly who those words belonged to.

_Help, help, please anyone, help me._

Chris looked up at his parents, "Melinda."

* * *

**A/N: **so that was the next chapter, hope you enjoyed it. Anyways, I would love for a review, to hear what you like and didn't like, there is always room for improvement!


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing; all the characters - except for Melinda, her family and friends - belong to the writers and creaters of Charmed.

**A/N: **I am so sorry it took so long to update; it sometimes hard to find time to write with so much stuff going on in my life. Anyways since it was quite a while since you've probably last thought about this story here is a recap:

Piper and Leo had a third child, a girl, Melinda, however the angel of desteny told them she would not be safe in the magical world, so they gave her to the sam church Patty and Sam gave Paige to, to be adopted by normal people. About sixteen years later, Melinda is living her life, completely unaware of being magical, when suddenly she is abducted by a strange man, who althought she doesn't know it is a demon. Wyatt and Chris have sort of figured out that their parents have been keeping something - melinda - a secret from them; while Piper is trying to explain Melinda to her sons, she, as well as Wyatt, Leo, Chris, Paige, Phoebe and Phoebe's youngest daughter Pandora all hear Melinda's voice in their heads despreatly pleading for help. Melinda's voice reminds Chris of his old life - with evil Wyatt - and of his prevous realtionship with Melinda.

That was long, but I hope it was helpful. Anyways, here you go. Chapter three, enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter Three: 2026**

"Melinda, she's in trouble now," Chris said looking directly at his family, "I know you all heard that; I saw your faces – she's in trouble, and I we need to help her."

His head was still swirling with all the memories the voice had brought; each passing minute brought a new one, a new little fact he now knew, remembered, about the baby sister he had never actually met. With each passing second he was growing more and more attached to the girl his parents had kept a secret from him, as his old life's relationship with her seeped into his present one.

The more attached he got, the greater his panic became.

Wyatt turned to look at his brother, "Wait, so the voice was… our sister?"

Where his brother was overloaded with thoughts and clarity, Wyatt was overloaded with confusion. It was almost all too much new, life changing information for him to handle. It was all happening so fast.

Chris paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, "I don't like to talk too much about my… other past; all it does is upset more people than it helps but in this cause… I couldn't be more positive; we were really the only family we had for a long time; as strange as it seems, being as I've never met her, I would know that voice anywhere," he turned to his parents then, "and I think you knew that too."

The room paused for a moment.

"I thought for a moment –" Piper stated to reply but never got the chance to finish for at that moment the room filled with orbs of blue-white light and the youngest charmed one appeared, "Paige!"

"Would somebody please explain the non-charge voice in my head," she asked placing her hands on her hips.

"What no pleasantries? No 'hi how are you'," Piper grouched.

While Chris turned to his aunt, "Wait, you heard it too?"

"While of course I heard it –" Paige started after sticking her tongue out at Piper, then stopped, "wait, what do you mean 'too'?"

Before anyone could explain what they knew to her the telephone rung.

"I'll get it," Leo announced walking over the machine, "Hello… Phoebe, slowdown – you what?" he sighed, "you too – yeah, yeah – hold on, I'm going to put you on speaker phone."

"Let me guess – Phoebe heard it too," Paige said, "You know I'd really love to be let in on this big secret – what's going on?"

Piper opened her mouth, once again attempting to include her family in on the unexplainable events but once again was interrupted, "for the love of God!"

The room filled with an unearthly pink glow, and Coop, Phoebe's dashing cupid husband, and Pandora appeared.

Before anyone else could say or do anything Pandora stepped forward and away form her father.

"Melinda's in trouble; she needs our help."

Piper sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

This was almost all too much; there hadn't been this much drama, plotting, and confusion in the house since the days as hard-core charmed ones, since the ultimate battle. Sure Wyatt, and Chris, in resent years, have started to 'bring their work home with them' so to speak, and there had always been a few irksome demons but nothing upon this level; nothing that appeared to be this complicated.

It was starting to remind Piper of the 'good old days', charmed days; it was also bringing back a thought or desire that she hadn't felt in a long, long time. She suddenly felt completely over-whelmed and incapable of handling the situation; she suddenly wished for Prue back with a passion, and not because of the usual old ache she always had, of just wanting her sister. She wanted Prue back to handle the situation; she felt like the struggling middle sister all over again – the sister who was suddenly supposed to handle everything but couldn't.

The moment passed quickly enough though, and with another sigh, Piper let go of her face and took charge, "_that's _what is going on; Phoebe I think you better be here in person."

Nodding Coop was gone and back again with his wife in less than a minute.

"I know nothing," Coop said immediately upon his return, "all she would say is that, and I figured here was the best place to come."

"By Melinda… did she mean…" Paige asked slowly; Piper nodded, not needing her sister to finish the statement, "but how did she… never mind, you know what I don't need to know."

Phoebe looked at her daughter and asked in a soft voice, "Sweetie, how do you know this?"

The girl gave her mother a 'do you really need to ask' look.

"Ok then…" Phoebe said looking around the room, "what are we going to do now?"

Chris had watched the mayhem of his family appearing and disappearing with a slight disinterest. His world, his head had become cluttered enough, and with each new thought, new attachment, new worry that came to him his restlessness grew.

He couldn't just sit there anymore; he had to do something, they all did.

"I don't know," Piper said weakly, "We gave her up so this wouldn't happen.

Chris couldn't keep it back anymore, "It doesn't matter what we did or didn't do! What matters is what we do now, and now, we're going to save her… and soon."

* * *

Melinda moved her tongue around slowly in her mouth; she had the worst taste stuck in the back of her throat.

Her eyelids were heavy; she couldn't bring herself to open them and there was a dull ache in the back of her head.

_Maybe I'm getting a cold, _she thought slowly and shifted around a bit.

Her memory was fuzzy and as she laid there she tried to bring back the events of the strange dream she had.

Any dream that wasn't the usual one was strange for Melinda but this particular one was strange even without that fact.

It had start out normal enough; she could remember that; Brody Cartwright had talked to her, actually sat down beside her instead of his friends in English class.

What a ridiculous thought; so maybe is wasn't so normal, but good, that was a better word. The start of the dream had been good; in fact it had been marvelous.

It changed though.

Melinda shuttered as she remembered the man who had taken up the last half of her dream. His eyes, his voice, his ugly scar on his otherwise handsome face, she could still hear and see them all and chills started to run down her spin. He had been so otherworldly, so eerie. She had felt as entranced by him as she had been repelled.

It was such a bizarre thing to dream about that Melinda had started to question it.

Actually she was questioning all her thoughts; there was a cloud or fog in her head blocking all cognitive thought and leaving her in a permanent state of confusion.

Instead of worrying about it too much, however, Melinda continued to focus on the first half of her dream.

She recalled how she felt so close to him, how stunning his eyes had actually been, how much more dazzling his smile had been up close, his warmth, his smell…

_His smell? _Melinda stopped her daydreaming suddenly to question; _you can't have a smell in a dream… can you? _

With a leap of her heart, the cloud slowly lifted and she realized her mistake; it hadn't been a dream, but a real memory. It had actually happened! Brody Cartwright had actually talked to her, chosen her over his friends.

Her excitement was short-lived.

As the fog lifted, Melinda regained more of her cognitive skills and another, much darker, more troubling realization dawned on her.

_If Brody was real than that means… _

"Wake-y, wake-y Sleeping beauty; you wouldn't want to sleep through the whole show now would you?" the slippery, rich yet terrifying voice of her dream surrounded her again; this time accompanied by a sharp swift kick to the shin.

Panic pushed through her grogginess, waking her up enough to open her eyes and drag herself away from him. She pushed herself as far into the corner of the cold dark cave she was in as she could get, as far away from _him _as she could get.

"Ah," he said, his face lighting up with malicious delight, "she wakes; I was worried I had given you too much – taken all the fun out of it."

_Too much of what? He must have drugged me, _Melinda decided, _that would explain the taste in my mouth… but when? He never gave me anything… I never drank anything. We were in an alleyway._ It didn't make sense. None of this did. Why her? What did she do? He had addressed her specifically; he had known she was the one he wanted. It hadn't been random and yet she had never seen this man… thing before in her life.

She shook with terror, "Who-who are you? What-what-what did you do-do me; where- where am I?"

Only the first of many questions managed to make it past her terror and through her mouth.

"One at a time, one at a time, my dear," he said reaching down to pat her cheek; Melinda flinched away from his touch, "Let's start with the easiest; I am your worst nightmare. You don't need to know anymore than that. I am here to stop you before you stop me and many more of my people – you will live to rue the day I came into your life, or rather you would if you were going to live."

_Mom, Dad… Charlotte_ Melinda thought painfully. It couldn't be real. Her brain refused to accept the last words he said. She wasn't going to die; she was too young.

She had never been so scared in her life; in fact, in the face of what was sure to be her death, Melinda was starting to think she had never been truly scared before that moment in her whole life. Nothing had ever felt like this – not even close. Her blood ran cold, her body shook uncontrollably, and her brain couldn't function.

She decided, as he swung himself toward her again, that if by some miracle, someone found her, if she some how survived this, she would never, ever, ever be scared of something that didn't warrant it again.

"Now, as for your next question – I did nothing to you at all, my dear, at least nothing that is worth worrying about – _yet_," he laughed his strange evilly majestic laugh, "as to your final inquiry, why, darling, you're in the underworld."

Melinda choked and sputtered, "The under-what? What _are _you?"

The question had been running through her head ever since she first saw him – how long ago was that? How long had she been asleep? Hours, days, weeks? – She hadn't been able to ask for fear of the answer; at that point, however, she had reached her limit. The question just burst out of her.

She still dreaded the answer; perhaps more so, now that the idea was out there, the thought that he was something different, something inhuman, and she was unable to take it back.

"No, no, no dear, that's not the question. That's not the question at all; the question is not what am _I _but rather, what are _you_?" he told her with an almost taunting tone.

"What am _I_?" she repeated dazed.

He shook his head and clucked his tongue, "I can't tell you that; where's the fun? Nope, that simply will not do, but _perhaps _I can _show _you."

Melinda stared in a bizarre twist of confusion, fear, and wonder as he walked slowly towards her with his hand held out towards her; he reminded Melinda of someone holding a scanning device looking for information.

"Hmm… let us see," he mumbled to himself as he approached, "Yes, oh yes this one will do nicely," he smiled maliciously, "let us just see if blood _is _thicker than water – spoiler alter, it won't be."

The question 'what do you mean?' was on the tip of her tongue when he waved his hand over the ground and a large, apparently endless dark hole appeared in the cold hard floor of the cavern.

Melinda scrambled away, her heart pounding with panic, "What the hell? Where-where did that come from?"

"Tut, tut, tut – I thought we were getting the hang of this question thing," he said, "it's not where it came from, young witch, that you need to worry about – it's where it is going."

The obvious question never left her facial features for before he was done speaking Melinda felt a push from behind and her scream was lost as she fell down the darkness of the pit.

* * *

The phone rung; Charlotte looked up but made no effort to answer it. It was never for her; the only person to really call her was Melinda and she usually got in touch with her via her cell phone or e-mail.

Thinking of Melinda reminded her that her friend should have called her by now. On a normal day, Melina would have called to check in after she was done her homework – the girl was horrible, she always did her homework first thing when she got home – and today hadn't been a normal day; today had been the day she had finally talked to Brody Cartwright. Charlotte had been expecting a call from her friend gushing as soon as she got home.

Charlotte picked up her cell; it was already six o'clock and still nothing.

She felt a tiny knot of cold worry spring up in her stomach; she pushed it back down.

Outside her room, Charlotte heard her mother pick up the hallway phone.

"Hello?" Mrs. Murdoch said and then added, after a slight pause, "Oh Hello Wendy!" Charlotte perked up. What was Melinda's mom doing calling her house? The nervous knot sprung up again, bigger than before, and refusing to be squashed, "What? No, no, Wendy, Wendy, calm down. I'm sure everything is alright – what is wrong?"

Charlotte couldn't just lie on her bed listening anymore; the knot had grown even larger and it felt like it was starting to weigh her down. She couldn't think, feel or see past her dread. This wasn't good, not good at all.

"Mom, what's going on?" she asked stepping into the hall.

Mrs. Murdoch held up her hand, "Charlotte's right here; I'll ask her. Wendy, I am sure it is going to be okay."

"Mom –" Charlotte started to repeat her question but her mother cut her off.

"Charlotte, honey, this is serious; I'm sure you are old enough to understand," her mother stared saying scaring her even more, "When was the last time you saw Melinda? What was she doing?"

"Melinda? What-Why? Mom what is going on?" Charlotte asked, far too concerned about what all this meant for her friend to just answer the question.

"Charlotte, honey – I know this is unfair to you, but now's really not the time; please just answer the question," Mrs. Murdoch replied.

Charlotte sighed and nodded her head, "Umm…after school. We walked to high street together, like we always do, then I went up and she went down. It was the same as everyday; Why? Mom what is going on?"

"Are you sure; there was nothing unusual? No one she was talking about? No one she was going to see?" her mom asked ignoring her question.

"Umm… no I don't think so… well maybe but," Charlotte mumbled more to herself.

"What is it honey?"

"Well, there was Brody Cartwright – she talked to him in English class," she replied slowly, " I didn't think it was much more than class stuff… but it is possible he may know something – mom, really, what is going on? What's wrong with Melinda?"

Through the whole conversation the knot in her stomach had grown larger and larger until Charlotte could think of and feel nothing else.

The foreboding feeling had turned into something far more serious and worrying.

"Not now, give me a moment sweetie," Mrs. Murdoch said before relaying everything her daughter had just said into the phone then with one more, "I'm sure it will all be alright," she hung up the phone.

As soon as she did Charlotte was there waiting. This time she didn't bother repeating her question; she believed that she had the right to know what was going on.

Melinda was her best friend, really her only friend. She was the sister she had always wanted but had never gotten. Charlotte knew everything about Melinda and visa-versa.

Anything that happened to Melinda, Charlotte felt like it happened to her.

"Charlotte, that was Mrs. Gladstone, Melinda's mother," only the gravity of the situation kept Charlotte from rolling her eyes and telling her mother 'obviously', "it seems that Melinda did not come home from school today."

Charlotte's world froze; the knot in her stomach tightened. It was all so surreal. For a long moment she didn't feel anything; it was like her brain just rejected the idea.

"What-what does that mean, exactly?" she finally got out.

She was grasping at straws; this didn't have to be a bad thing. Melinda simply could have gone to a store and lost track of time.

Her mother nodded understandingly, "Well, it could mean several things; it could be, and most likely is, a misunderstanding, and she is safely at a friend's house or the library and will be home soon or if not, well…"

Charlotte bit her lips together and nodded. Her brain was numb; this had to be a dream. It couldn't be real; it could not be happening to her.

"Mrs. Gladstone knew how worried you'd, we'd all, be, so she promised to call as soon as she came home… or they learn anything," Mrs. Murdoch told her.

Charlotte nodded, "Ok, I'll be in my room then."

It was in a shocked daze that Charlotte spent the rest of the night, her mind constantly flipping between optimism and despair.

As time went on, however, and no news came, this trance soon fell away and more and more the young girl just felt overwhelmed by despair.

By the morning, after a long sleepless, news-less night, Charlotte was a nervous mess who was sure she would never see her best friend again.

As she walked down the school hallway she felt like she was in a haze; what would life be like without Melinda, without her best friend?

As that thought entered her head another, far more sobering one followed – if it was this horrible for herself, she could only imagine what it must be like for Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone. Melinda was their only child, their world. For all that, all that they held dear, to be leaning precariously over the edge of being lost forever must be completely devastating.

The thought of losing Melinda was incomprehensible for Charlotte; however it must be world-shattering for her parents.

Charlotte started to open her locker but gave up halfway through, leaning her head on the door instead. She didn't have the will, the energy, to finish even that mundane task.

The noise, the lights, everything was overwhelming. It was too much to process; it was unreal. This time, in this very same place, only a day ago, she had been laughing and joking with her friend and now…

Where could she be?

"Charlotte? Charlotte – can I … can I talk to you," the voice was the only thing that could have pulled Charlotte out of her daze; it sounded so worried, so stressed, so pained, so close to how she felt, her sympathy for another human being in her pain brought her back to the real world for a few moments to try to heal it.

"Brody," her voice, tired and quiet from the night's emotional toll, managed to reflect the surprise she felt upon seeing the owner of the voice, "Umm… yeah sure, shoot."

He fidgeted, looking down at his feet.

His skin was pale, slightly sickly looking, and his handsome face was pinched and drawn with worry.

His eyes, when he finally looked up, showed a spectra of complicated emotions, "Melinda… is she, was she… Why did I get a call from her mother asking if I knew where she was? Is she alright? What is going on?"

Charlotte gritted her teeth and let her hand slowly drift down and off the locker. She didn't want to have to tell Brody. She didn't want to say the words out loud and make them real. Worst of all, she really didn't want to be the one to make the painful look on his face worse, because right now there was an undercurrent of desperate hope on his face and coming from mouth – hope that she will be able to deny what his conscience has been telling him and that Melinda was perfectly fine.

Once she told him the truth, all that hope will be gone and he, like herself, will be left with the painful truth. They probably will never see Melinda again.

"She's gone," she said finally, in a small voice that cracked despite herself, "Poof, disappeared – who knows where, doing who knows what; she didn't come home from school yesterday."

"But, but… that doesn't have to be bad does it?" he sounded desperate, he sounded much, Charlotte imagined, as she herself had the evening before.

She shrugged, "I honestly don't know; I want to believe… but I just don't know."

The two slipped into a morose silence; the unusuality of their togetherness and the absence of their only common acquaintance hung over them.

"Do you know that they say those not found in the first twenty four hours are usually not found alive?" Charlotte said in a quiet broken voice after a few moments.

"No, not Melinda," Brody said after a few moments in an usually fierce, determined voice, "I do not know where she is but she is not dead; she can't be – we're going to find her… somehow."

* * *

Melinda scrambled away, her heart pounding with panic, "What the hell? Where-where did that come from?"

"Tut, tut, tut – I thought we were getting the hang of this question thing," he said, "it's not where it came from, young witch, that you need to worry about – it's where it is going."

The obvious question never left her facial features for before he was done speaking Melinda felt a push from behind and her scream was lost as she fell down the darkness of the pit.

The fall seemed to last forever and then all of the sudden it didn't. She stopped with a crash.

Melinda groaned as she slowly pushed her way off the ground. She felt dizzy, achy, and disoriented; her day, her week, however long it has been since all this hell started, had gone from bad to worse, to worse.

Melinda just felt like there was no way to top her last stop; maybe she was already dead, after all that's what the _thing _had promised would happen, and really she shouldn't have been able to survive that fall.

She slowly pulled herself to her feel and started to rub her eyes; she was too stressed out to handle anything else, perhaps that meant she was too stressed out to be dead.

She, however, should have been paying more attention.

"Melinda! Melinda! What the _hell _are you doing?" a male voice yelled, sounding rather stressed and more than a little angry.

Jumping, Melinda opened her eyes and spun around trying to find the source of the voice, but instead found a man in his early twenties with long curly blond hair and a dark scowl on his face holding a ball of blue sparking … something… that looked extremely dangerous and directed at her.

Screaming, Melinda covered her head with her arms and braced herself for what was sure to be a painful and most likely fatal blow.

Instead, though, she heard a loud fizzling sound and the blond man roar, "You'll pay for that brother!"

Before she could move her arms and see what was going on a pair of arms grabbed her from behind and she felt odd almost pleasant but not quite, tingling feeling as the room she was in dematerialized in a swarm of blue-white lights; she then felt an odd floating feeling as she was sure she saw clouds floating by before seeing the blue-white lights again and was once again on solid ground in a dingy alleyway.

Feeling ill and dizzy, Melinda stumbled forward and braced herself against the wall. After taking a few shaky breaths, and determining that her lunch was not going to make a reappearance she turned around to face her second kidnapper in however long, who also just might be her savior.

As she laid eyes on him…

… she started.

He was also a twenty-something man, with shortish but messy brown hair and was of average height. In reality, he was an average American male, maybe a little on the attractive side, but other than that there was nothing special about him.

Nothing special, except that he fit the exact description of the brother Melinda had always daydreamed about having.

His face was a neutral slat that was only possibly leaning towards the emotions of sympathy or concern.

"What-what the hell was that?" she finally asked in a short shaky voice.

The neutral look slipped away immediately to be replaced by an expression that could only be described as anger, "I was going to ask you the same question."

* * *

**A/N: **Well that was chatper three. Again I am sorry it took so long to update; feel free to reveiw - I love some good constructive criticism, and just generally what you think. Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter Four

**a/n:** ok so I would like to take this moment to apologize for not updating in about centuries. I just got really distracted, and I'm a horrible person. However, this is a really long chapter, and from now on I promise to updat more regularily, like every few weeks or so at most, so hopefully that makes up for it. Once again, I am really sorry.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, just a happy borrower.

**Sumary:** Its been so long, that I've forgotten some of the things that happened, so I'm sure you have two, so here we go:

Piper and Leo had a third child, a girl, Melinda, however the angel of desteny told them she would not be safe in the magical world, so they gave her to the sam church Patty and Sam gave Paige to, to be adopted by normal people. About sixteen years later, Melinda is living her life, completely unaware of being magical, when suddenly she is abducted by a strange man, who althought she doesn't know it is a demon. Wyatt and Chris have sort of figured out that their parents have been keeping something - melinda - a secret from them; while Piper is trying to explain Melinda to her sons, she, as well as Wyatt, Leo, Chris, Paige, Phoebe and Phoebe's youngest daughter Pandora all hear Melinda's voice in their heads despreatly pleading for help. Melinda's voice reminds Chris of his old life - with evil Wyatt - and of his prevous realtionship with Melinda. Melinda's parents and friends are freaking out at home trying to find her; her biological and magical familiar are on the hunt for her too. She had a nice take with the demon that had abuducted her, down in the underworld, and he sends her down a huge hole that sends her to a place where oddly enough there is a very angry and evil Wyatt trying to kill her, and a equally as angry Chris saving her kester - although she does not know that they are Wyatt and Chris.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Alternate Reality One: 2026**

"What the _hell _was that Melinda? You know better than that," the man raged at her, "You fight better than that! Were you trying to get yourself killed? Cause that's what you were doing!"

Despite her fatigue and overall confusion, Melinda still bristled under the yelling; she never could stand being yelled at, even when she deserved it - which right now she most certainly did not.

"Look..." she paused a moment trying to figure out what to call the person in front of her, "sir, thank you for saving my life. I really do appreciate that, but I don't know you or why you know me and it has been a really long day," Melinda was doing her best to keep her voice level; after all this man did save her life, even if he was acting like a lunatic now, "So please... there is really no reason for you to be yelling at me right now."

Her words stopped the man mid-tirade; one moment he looked ready and waiting to explode, to pick apart whatever excuse she gave him, and then next he looked like someone had punched him where the sun don't shine. The colour drained from his face, and it adopted a pained shocked look. With the shock was also an unmissable amount of concern.

Concern, Melinda was sure, that was meant for her.

Which was strange, since, you know, she had no idea who he was.

"What do you... You mean... you don't... who I am?" his words came out in staggered gasps as if he was having trouble getting his breath. He sounded both genuinely hurt and confused.

Confused Melinda understood, but hurt?

Nothing was going as she had expected it today.

"Sorry... I mean, I've missed a lot of stuff today - not much have I understood, but I really don't think I know you," she tried to apologize, "Maybe if you tell me who you are, it will come to me, but I really think that you have the wrong Melinda here."

She thought everybody had the wrong girl. What had the whack-job who kidnapped her said? Something about magic, or witches... she didn't know, but this certainly wasn't her world. They all definitely had the wrong girl.

This excuse, however, didn't go over as well as she had hoped. Instead of helping, it seemed to make the reaction worse.

If she thought the man was pale before, it was nothing compared to how he looked after she reconfirmed that she had no idea who he was.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, and his lips became a thin line. He reminded Melinda of a gunshot victim she had seen on some TV show. You know the ones who were in complete and utter pain but were to brave or manly to yell out.

"Chris," his voice came out weak and hoarse like he was fighting off a cold, "My name is Chris."

"Oh well, it is nice to meet you Chris; You seem to already know my name, so I'm just going to -"

"I am Chris, and you, you are Melinda, my sister."

Melinda froze, her face going slack. After everything that had happened today, starting in all honestly with Brody sitting beside her, she was learning to expect, the unexpected.

This, however, _this _wasn't unexpected, this was impossible.

"No, no, no," she shook her head, backing away from Chris slightly. He was obviously deranged, one nugget short of a happy meal, the whole deal, "That's, that's not... I'm an only child; my parents are a cop, and elementary school teacher respectively. I don't, you're not-"

"Your parents- no they were..." Chris stopped and stared at her for a long time, a strange look coming over his face.

That's when it happened. Melinda didn't understand what was going on.

But one minute she was staring at Chris's pale face, wondering if she should call the ambulance or the police, and the next...

Well she didn't know what it was. They were memories, definitely memories, only they weren't hers. They couldn't be hers.

She saw three children running about a yard, playing, frolicking in front of a large pink house. One, a little blonde boy who was staying out of the game, she did not recognize at all, but the other boy was quite recognizable as the man in front of her, much younger of course, but Chris none the less.

And then there was the girl - the girl that she couldn't _not _recognize. For it was her, when she was about three or four.

Only she had never done any of this. She didn't know Chris not then, not now, and she certainly was not remembering this herself. Although it played like a memory in her head, it wasn't _her _memory.

So if it wasn't _her _memory then it must have been...

She looked at Chris again, flinching slightly more away, "What are you doing to me? Who _are _you?"  
"I told you," Chris sighed exasperatedly, "I'm your brother, and I'm not doing anything to you."

"But-but the images... the memory that's not mine, it has to be..."

"It is my memory, but I'm not making you see it. I don't have the power to do that."

Melinda shook her head, "But I can't... you can't... I don't know you; I'm normal. None of this is real! None of this is making sense!"

She felt like crying. She was tired and confused, and wanted nothing more than to go home, to her mother and father.

She couldn't see memories, she couldn't get into people's head. None of this made sense, none of this...

The man, the one who took her came back to her head. She had thought she had heard something there too hadn't see? Though how could she be sure? She was so stressed that this could all be post-traumatic, her body's defense system.

When everything else goes crazy, make yourself crazy too.

She wasn't... she couldn't...

_Look, Mel, I've known you since a baby, you are my sister, believe me or not, but it _is _the truth. You'll have to realize it sooner or later. _

Melinda jumped. She heard his voice in her head! She had heard it. There was no doubting it. It was Chris's voice, and it was in her head speaking to her. He had said her name.

"What am I?" she looked at him helplessly. What was going on? Why her? Why now?

Why? Why? Why?

Chris looked at her a long time, appraising he; his eyes roaming over her critically.

_God, she looks so tired, and confused... and scared._

Again Melinda heard his voice in her head again, but this time he hadn't meant her to. Unconsciously she pulled a hand through her hair, making a quick attempt at grooming.

Finally he shook his head, "Don't worry about it; we'll deal with it later."

Melinda bristled. She didn't want to deal with it later. She was overwhelmed and confused and she bloody well wanted to know the reason why, and she wanted to know now!

"How about we deal with it now?" she put her hand over her chest, glaring at Chris.

Chris let out a long-suffering sigh, and threw his hands over his face, tilting it to the sky.

_Why me? Why am I cursed with a sister who can remember how to use attitude, but can't remember me! _

"Hey!" she yelled huffily, "I heard that!"

_Then keep your brain to yourself. _

"I would if I knew how! If I knew what I freakin' was!"

Chris sighed, this time his face sagged with resignation, "Look, Melinda, I'm not trying to withhold information from you. I'm really not, but we really don't have time for this - you may not remember this, but those guys there, they're bad news, and we are not safe here. I really did not save you once for you to die here. So let's go."

Once again Melinda froze. Her mind went back to the strange ball of... Static? Light? Energy? that had been thrown at her, and the angry man who had thrown it.

He was terrifying... angry, imposing.

She was tired of almost dying, but she thought back to how they had left last time.

"Are you going to do that strange light thing again," her stomach knotted at the thoughts. She did not like the feeling she got from that... mode of transportation.

However, it was better than dying.

"Not here; not where they can follow us," Chris grabbed her hand and started pulling her along the alley towards the main street. "I'm surprised they haven't tried to follow the trail yet."

Melinda looked over her shoulder nervously, "They can do that?"

She hated how small and scared she sounded. She hated how small and scared she felt.

"Not," he said in an oddly reassuring tone, giving her hand a comforting squeeze, "if we walk."

Melinda trailed behind him, her 'brother' as they weaved in and out of the crowds of people on the street; every so often she would glance over her shoulder trying to check who might be following them. If they could recognize anyone.

What she was soon distracted by, however, was her new surroundings. It was San Francisco, there was no doubt about that - she could see the bridge off in the distance - but it was the city as she had never seen it before.

The streets were all dark and dingy. As dark and dingy as the alley she had just exited from. Every street, every corner. None of them looked safe, none of them looked normal.

Every few blocks a street light would be blinking or out completely, and Melinda gawked as they passed a building that was completely burnt out.

What had happened here?

Where was she?

Most of the windows were boarded up; no one talked, no one interacted. The people walked down the street in a quiet, suppressed sort of way.

It was as if they were in the middle of a war zone, but San Francisco wasn't in a war.

So where was she?

Where ever she was, she certainly did not feel safe.

Fear bubbled up in her, driving her forward, away from the unknown behind and towards the only known she knew - Chris... her brother?

She didn't believe it; it was impossible. Even if she was adopted, her biological family shouldn't know her, shouldn't remember her.

Chris remembered a life that she didn't live.

And yet in this strange world he was the only safety - family? - she had.

Right now all she wanted was to go home and snuggle up in her bed pretending it had never happened. She wanted her mother, but she didn't have her mother.

Would an older brother make a decent substitute?

She glanced over her shoulder nervously, and then pulled herself closer to Chris. He may have been crazy, but he was the only thing she knew.

"Chris," she whispered, resisting the urge to cling to him like a small child. She didn't want to be running away; she didn't want to play cat and mouse with some unknown danger. She just wanted to be safe; she just wanted to be normal.

She just wanted to be home.

They needed to get out of this crowded street. It was closing in on her. She didn't care how they did it, they just needed to get out of there.

"Shh... this way," without another word Chris tugged her down another alleyway.

"What are we-"

Her query was cut off by the white lights, and the gut wrenching tingling feeling as she deformed.

When the lights were gone and she was in one - if queasy- piece they were in a simple but attractive apartment.

As soon as she was sure she could move without hurling she sunk onto a nearby couch, "We've got to stop doing that."

"You used to be okay with it," Chris sighed sitting on a chair across from her, "You know, before-"

"Chris?" A loud voice called from another room making her jump, "Melinda? Is that you?"

"In the living room Gramps!" Chris obviously wasn't as startled by the voice as she was.

Melinda looked about the room, then back at Chris with mingled look of shock and suspicion, "Who's that?"

Chris sighed sadly, and shook his head at her. For some reason it got on Melinda's nerves. It seemed to suggest she was beyond hope, beyond help.

But she didn't need help, did she?

_What happened to you?_ The question although heard by Melinda was obviously not meant to be.

Still she blushed anyway, and it was on the tip of her tongue to respond snarkily with exactly what happened to her when suddenly her anger just deflated back into confusion.

"I wish I knew."

Chris gave her a long appraising look; the gears in his head turning as little things she had said slipped into their own places. He opened his mouth, and Melinda thought he was about to say something - something that would hopefully help her understand this situation when he was stopped by the appearance of a man.

"Thank _god_," he exclaimed not wait for Chris to respond before he scooped him up into a tight hug.

The new person was obviously an older gentleman, with his thinning hair a deep silvery grey colour, and his warm kind face wrinkled with age. Although her top emotion was suspicion, something deep inside of her, something she was ignoring at that moment, seemed to be put at ease by his gentle yet commanding way.

"So everything went okay? Everyone is alright?"

Melinda smiled slightly as she watched them. Despite the obvious, manly-men vibe they both give off, they weren't embarrassed by the display of affection. They obviously cared deeply about each other.

People cared about her, her mom, dad, Charlotte… The smile slowly slipped off her face. Where were they now? Where was _she_? Do they think that she is dead? _Is _she dead? Were they trying to find her?

Would she ever see them again?

A lump lodged in her throat, and Melinda's eyes started to feel warm and her noise tingly. She was going to cry. She knew it.

The lump grew more painful as she struggled not to cry in front of strangers - strangers that claimed to be her family.

Family finally did it, and she felt the tears slowly leak out of her eyes, leaving a stick trail behind on her cheek.

She furiously wiped away the tears, hoping that the few would end, it wouldn't turn into a flood.

Chris saved her; his voice pulling her back to the room and away from her melancholy thoughts.

"Not exactly everyone is alright," she heard him whisper and although she was doing her best to avoid their gaze, hide the tears that were still slowly trickling out, she felt his point glance at her.

"Why? What's wrong?" she could clearly hear the panic in the older man's voice, and once again it made her feel a pang in her chest. These seemed to be good people, "What happened?"

Instead of answering him, Chris raised his voice to include her in the conversation, "Do _you _want to tell him what happened, Mel?"

Melinda glared at him, although the comment hadn't been a complete taunt. Chris had put a softened edge to his tone that almost sounded like a plea. Maybe he wanted to know what was wrong too.

However, the words themselves seemed to draw out an instinctual defensive reaction in her. It was, to her brain at least, a challenge and one that she was going to come out on top of.

She surprised herself by briefly wondering if this was what having an older brother was like.

But Chris wasn't her brother. She had decided against that. It was impossible.

Wasn't it?

She squared her shoulders and used the palm of her hand to wipe away any stray tears.

"I don't know," she said defiantly, with a twinge of snark, as she stared him down daring him to contradict her, "I'm still waiting for _you _to tell _me _that."

"That's the thing," Chris completely ignored the last part of the statement, "She doesn't know a lot."

"Melinda-" the older man stepped towards her, and despite the calm feeling he gave some part of her she flinched back nervously.

Trust wasn't something she could give right away, not with all that had happened so far.

His face fell as she did so; she felt bad for a moment. The pain was much more prominent on his kind wrinkled face than it had been on Chris's earlier that day, and it made the guilt more noticeable.

But… anyone can claim to be someone's brother… but to be believed…

"She doesn't know a lot," Chris repeated solemnly, putting a gentle hand on the man's shoulder, "Including what just happened, you and me."

The man turned to Chris with an astonished expression, "You mean she-Can it do that?"

"There's not much it can't do," Chris said with a shrug.

"But how-?"

"I don't know."

"Was it-?

"I don't know."

"I can hear you," Melinda called grumpily, getting frustrated at everyone talking around her but no one talking to her, "and I'm still waiting on that explanation."

Chris rolled his eyes and gave his grandfather an unamused look, "As you can see, she still knows how to act like a little brat."

"I heard that too!"

"Good," Chris said with finality, a smile on his face, his eyes twinkling.

Despite the ridiculousness of it, and everything else that was going on, Melinda stuck out her tongue in response.

She couldn't help it. It was an instinctual response. It was like her body just reacted one way, and she could do nothing about it.

Besides, she was tired and confused. All she wanted was to curl up and have this all go away. It could be a dream. Couldn't it?  
She wanted her parents. She wanted safety.

She wanted family.

"Melinda," Chris interrupted her thoughts; he was using a soft and comforting tone, nothing like what he had been using before. Despite the desired affect it seemed to put her more at ill ease. What would he need to use that voice for? "This is Victor Bennett. Our grandfather."

Melinda's head snapped to the man, Victor, and looked at him with new interest.

Grandfather, she should have figured it out after Chris called him 'Gramps' but after everything that was going on, one could not blame Melinda for being a little slow.

Grandfather. He looked like a grandfather, with kind eyes, and what she expected was a warm loving heart.

The comforting feeling he gave her, came back full force, and took over the suspicion, knocking it out of the way.

How could anyone suspect this man of harm. This man who so obviously cared about his family.

Could she be part of his family?

"I've always wanted a Grandfather," Melinda mumbled to herself, flushing when she realized that they had probably heard her anyways.

Both her parents fathers had died young, before she was born.

Victor… Gramps? … leaned down and smiled kindly at her, "And now you have one."

Could it be possible? Could what they've been saying really be true? She had always wanted more family; she loved her parents, but to have more siblings, and Grandparents…

She shouldn't believe it. It didn't make sense. This wasn't her life. She didn't know these people at all…

And yet she felt connected to them. She couldn't deny it anymore; she did.

But…

"Prove it," she suddenly demanded looking at both of them. She turned from one face and then the other, "Prove that you're my Grandfather… and my brother."  
Chris groaned, throwing his head back in a universal, why me stance.

Victor, however, surprised her.

Victor laughed.

With a small smile, and a look that she might have, in other circumstances, called pride, he said, "Just like her aunt Prue," he turned to Chris - who still looked fed up and exasperated - and added softly, "Just like her mother."

Chris's expression fell, managing to look both fonder and sadder, "But how am I supposed to prove to my sister that she's my sister?"

Victor's expression became thoughtful for a long moment, and then brightened suddenly. Without a word or an explanation he got up and walked out of the room.

"Where's he going?"

Chris shrugged, "How am I supposed to know. I'm not the telepath."

Melinda froze, and Chris's expression slackened as he realized what he let slip.

_Telepath, the thoughts… the stuff… _no, it wasn't possible.

Melinda was normal. Wasn't she?

"If you're not the telepath… than does that mean I am?"

Melinda's voice was small and hesitant. She wanted to know what was going on, but this…

It was one thing to think that strange stuff was going on in the world, magic - for there really was no other way to explain the things that Melinda had seen today - but it was completely different to find out it was in you.

That you are not normal… you're different.

Melinda wasn't sure she wanted to be different.

What did different get her?

Sent to some random place, with people who claim to be her family although she had never seen them in her life.

Different almost got her killed.

She thought back to the man who had gotten her here.

Different _would_ get her killed.

Despite this she managed to remain calm.

Maybe she was just too tired to panic.

Chris tilted his head to the side, the resigned look on his face being replaced with one of almost taunting. _You tell me. _

Melinda jumped, not expecting to hear his voice, his thoughts. She didn't understand how she could hear some but not the others.

Still if he was answering question…

"Then how? Why me?"

Chris sighed tiredly. He seemed tired of keeping secrets from her. Maybe he was just tired of her. Melinda would be surprised if that was the case. She was tired of herself too right now.

Either way, he was about to tell her something, something she desperately wanted, needed to know, when Victor came back.

"Why don't you take a gander at these."

He plunked a huge pile of books, large, most with fancy faux leather covers in front of her.

Melinda looked at Victor who smiled encouragingly at her, and Chris, who shrugged as confused as she was.

"Gramps, what are those?"

Victor turned to him, "You'll see. Go on Mel, open them."

Shrugging, Melinda picked up the one on the top of the pile. It was one of the large books, with a deep burgundy fake leather binding, and the world 'Halliwell' written in fancy letters on the front. It sat heavy in her lap.

With one more look at the two men in front of her, she took a deep breath and flipped the cover open.

The cover fell against her leg with a limp flop.

"Genius Gramps," Chris exclaimed in surprise, "That's perfect."

It wasn't a book at all.

It was a photo album.

Staring up at her were three young girls, the oldest no more than five, the youngest about one or two. They were playing in a well light room. There were lots of windows allowing sun in.

They all had deep brown hair, and bright smiles.

Whatever they were doing they were loving it.

Melinda looked up at the two men confused.

Although the middle child was oddly drawing, hauntingly familiar - like a movie star you know you've seen before but you just can't place where - they held nothing spectacular for her.

There was no proof here.

"I am I supposed to know these people. Is this supposed to mean something to me?"

Victor looked over her shoulder and smiled sadly at the photo, stroking his thumb over each girl, "Wrong album." He gentle removed it from Melinda's hand, looking at the photo for a long moment before putting it away, and handing her a more modern, obviously much new one.

Having done this already once, Melinda only wasted on glance at the room, before quickly pulling the album open, like a band-aid, and staring dumbfounded at what she found in there.

This time the first photo was a family portrait, obviously professionally taken.

The two parents were standing side by side, the husband was a reasonably tall man with dark blond hair and a pleasant smile who had his arm around his wife who, although Melinda couldn't tell you how she knew, was the middle child from the photo before. It didn't make sense for Melinda to know this fact, years had passed and most resemblance had gone, but she knew none the less. She was smiling like she wanted nothing more than this in the world.

A happy and health family.

In front of the couple were two boys, obviously their sons. The older boy, about ten years of age, was standing sullenly, with his curly deep blond hair pulled back behind his head in an attempt - probably made by his mother - to look put together. Although he was smiling for the camera, one could see that it was not reaching his eyes. It was left with an eerie almost evil sort of look about him. It was unnerving for Melinda to look at. The second boy, only about a year younger was an oddly innocent looking brunette, who Melinda needed no help placing.

Her eyes flicked up to Chris before landing back down on the picture and looking at the biggest shock of all.

In her mother's arms was a little girl, no more than three, her dark brown hair falling in her face, her smile wide and open, and her eyes, her deep brown eye that gave everything away no matter how much she tried to hide it, were bright with happiness.

It was the eyes that did it. Even if Melinda hadn't seen photos like this hundreds of time before, only without the boys and with different parents, she would know those eyes anywhere.

For they looked back at her every day of her life, never changing and always large and enticing.

It was her. The little girl, posing with her family was Melinda.

Only of course, Melinda never took this photo. This wasn't her family, and yet…

Her brain unfroze and she started flipping frantically. Looking at every picture for only a second, long enough to confirm what she knew to be impossible and then move on to the next.

Sometimes there was only one person in the picture, sometimes it was only the boys, but as she went on, and the children got older there was no denying it.

Every single one was Melinda. Every single one was her in a picture she had not taken, a life she had not live, a family she didn't have.

And yet here it was.

"What does this mean?" she felt helpless, she sounded helpless; her voice squeaking like a small lost child.

Chris gently preyed the book out of her hands, "You know what it means."

It was impossible, it was unreal.

It was undeniable.

She looked up at Chris and then at Victor.

This really was her brother. That really was her grandfather.

They were her family.

She looked at the book still in Chris's hands, not yet closed, and the little blonde boy caught her eye.

"If you're my brother," she nodded to the picture, "then who is that?"

Chris sighed a sigh of a broken person and looked at the photo in his hand for a long time, "That's Wyatt."

_Wyatt_, Melinda mused, mulling the name over in her head. She finally shrugged her shoulders the name having no meaning for her.

"And Wyatt is?"

"Wyatt is our older brother," his finger rested on the photo for a long time. He seemed to be trying to make a big decision, to come to terms with something, "and he was also the man who threw that energy ball at you."

* * *

Chris sat on the bed in the room he shared with his sister, watching her even breath go in and out as she slept. When she was asleep she looked as she always did. As she had when she was a child. He could pretend that today had never happened. That none of his life had ever happened. That they were still at home, safe and sound in the manor. That they were still a family.

Of course, today he hadn't need to wait for sleep for her to appear as she had when she was younger, when things were simpler. She had spent all day as if she was a child again.

Only so much more vulnerable than when she was child, for at least as a child she knew about her powers. Now she knew nothing.

Not even him.

Chris pushed aside the small throb created when his only sister had treated him like a stranger. She believed him now and that was all that mattered.

They had bigger things to worry about.

Like how to fix this.

Or to even figure out what this was.

"What happened to you?" he mumbled this question to himself for the hundredth time. Still coming up empty handed.

He had ruled out simple memory lost, because it wasn't just her memories that had changed. She hadn't merely forgotten him and Gramps, she had forgotten herself.

She wasn't the Melinda he knew at all. The Melinda he knew, his sister, was tough, angry… jaded.

Not skittish, naive, and jumpy.

But he had ruled out possession, or it not being Melinda at all as well. She was still like Melinda… like how she used to be before…

An idea slowly started to come to Chris, but he had no sources. Nothing to prove or disprove it.

He clenched his hand into a fist and resisted the urge to hit something. If only he still had the Book of Shadows, but Wyatt-

"Chris," Victor stuck his head in the doorway only to have Chris put his fingers to his lips and nod towards Melinda, "How's she doing?"

Chris shrugged and slipped back into the living room, Victor following, "I don't know, better I think, but…"

He trailed off. This was all too bizarre, too personal - but wasn't these days? - it was beyond his capability.

All he knew was that his sister was more vulnerable than ever, in a time when it really didn't pay to be vulnerable.

"What's wrong with her Chris? What exactly are we dealing with here? A spell? Demons? Wyatt?"

"I don't know, Grandpa," Chris sighed, letting his head hang, "I've never seen anything like this. She's exactly like Melinda in so many ways, and yet when it comes down to all these fundamental things…"

The thought he had had earlier started to expand in his head.

"What is it? What do you think it is? Talk to me Chris."

"It's just a theory, but," Chris hesitated a moment, looking back to the door to Melinda. Her eyes, which for years had always been so hard, so bitter - no matter what mood she had been in - hadn't seemed that way. Not today, not after she stared acting strange. They were open… not exactly happy, but not bitter or angry, or just a little bit dead like they had been for so long. Those deep brown eyes had been just tired, or just confused, or just overwhelmed, "It's almost like she's a different Melinda. Still Melinda… only what she'd be like if she lived a life without magic… without us," being farther away from his sleeping sister he felt free to slam his hand on the table, "If only I had the God damn book!"

Victor jumped to his side, his voice stern, "Hey, they'll be none of that. Chris you are a good kid, and a damn good brother. You will fix this. I know you will."

Chris smiled sadly at him and then let his gaze slid over to his sister's room.

"I wish I was so sure."

* * *

Wyatt Halliwell paced, sparks flying from his finger tips as his temper increased.

How could she? To him! After everything he had done for her, for them both!

"I want her found!" Wyatt's voice echoed through the room, filling the whole space. His hand twitched. How he longed to strangle something.

Preferably his sister's pretty little neck.

"But, sir-"

"Quiet Bianca!"

Wyatt glared at the attractive assassin. Since she had been spending time with Chris she was losing her edge. They thought he didn't know, but Wyatt knew everything. That would have to be stopped at some point, but for now he had bigger fish to fry.

Like Melinda.

He could still see it in his mind's eye.

She had come barging in there on some pretence or another, only to betray him.

"I want that little bitch dead."

He wouldn't be surprised if his eyes were red. He felt like spitting fire. Any cliché in the book, he felt it and more.

He couldn't believe it. Not little Melinda, the weakest of them all. The telepath and nothing more. How dare she come in here, and try to find The Book of Shadows and think he wouldn't notice.

"But your sister Wyatt? -that's family-"

"Silence!" Wyatt roared; he was tired of listening to this.

He could still see her eyes when she realized that she had been caught. The cold look in those brown orbs as the energy ball formed in front of her.

She was going to kill him, with his own powers - his Melinda.

If it hadn't been himself she had been trying to kill he would have been so proud.

Now all he felt was anger.

"The book," Bianca was starting to get on his nerves, "really is as much theirs as it is -"

"I said SILENCE!" his voice amplified by power the house shook and his fingers sparked.

Then right before Melinda finished the job - a job she might have been successful at, Wyatt was so shock, though he won't admit it - she faltered - stopped.

It was strange.

Those brown eyes went from cold to confused.

Something was going on.

"The rules are the rules. Those who break them will be punished. Family more severely than the rest."

"And Chris?"

"Is too weak to see the whole picture; he will be forgiven this time. So long as he doesn't get in the way."

"The way of what, Wyatt?"

Something was definitely going on, and he was going to use it to his advantage.

"Melinda Halliwell has to die, and it will be at my hands."

* * *

**A/N: **so that was the chapter that I took forever to update. Thank you for those of you who did wait like over a year I think, or something crazy like that, I promise you will never have to wait that long agian, I am determined to remain consistant with my updating of all my stories from now on. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed and please feel free to review. I really love hearing what you think. So it would be awesome if you could take a moment and just jote down what you liked, what you didn't, favourite or least favourite part, or anything else you can think of relating to the story. I would love to hear it and constructive critisism is more than welcome cause how else am I going to grow. Once again, thank you for reading.


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